


Take a byte

by bluebells



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Because hackers gonna hack, Dubious Consent, Multi, Negotiations, Oral Sex, Other, Robot Sex, Robot/Human Relationships, Threesome - F/F/Other, Vaginal Fingering, oversensitivity, valveplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-04
Updated: 2018-06-04
Packaged: 2019-05-18 03:42:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14845032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluebells/pseuds/bluebells
Summary: They may be fourteen floors off the ground, but Sombra isn't the one who needs to answer if footage emerges of Russia’s homegrown hero laying her former prey across her lap, three fingers deep between her legs.





	Take a byte

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Sy (Sycophantism)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sycophantism/gifts).



> Title from Janelle Monae. I want to strongly reinforce that this contains attributes of dubious/non-consent as people are hacked at points and there are moments when they aren't able to give their consent. Please read responsibly.

The air in the hotel room is close and thick. Zarya had insisted on drawing the heavy curtains closed. 

Sombra wouldn’t have minded if they stayed open. It’s a clear, cool afternoon in Naples.

They may be fourteen floors off the ground, but Sombra isn't the one who needs to answer if footage emerges of Russia’s homegrown hero laying her former prey across her lap, three fingers deep between her legs.

“Who is her contact?” Zarya rumbles above her.

Ay, that _voice._ It floods heat from her head to her toes and her back bows, digging her heels into the mattress. Electricity tingling beneath her skin, Sombra makes a pathetic whimper as a hand on her belly holds her still and a palm grinds against her clit. Strong fingers curl inside her without sympathy and Sombra throws her head back on the mattress with a sound between a harsh sob and a laugh.

She might have miscalculated this one.

Breath tight in her chest, Sombra writhes on Zarya’s muscled thighs. Her loose hair falls across her face, matting with the sweat of this drawn-out stalemate. But three orgasms down and no sign of Zarya growing frustrated, Sombra is not sure she’s still winning. 

“Nnh--ah! Aah! _Ay,_ flaca….”

That narrowed gaze searches her face, tracking every reaction when Sombra tightens and cries out, lurching against her body. She follows each shiver and whine, closing in when Sombra tries curling back, hands clasped around Zarya’s wrist to catch her breath. At every turn, Zarya prevents Sombra’s escape, holding her down, tugging her back in.

Her head is hazy and her body feels weak. Zarya’s relentless attention has beaten down the lust and thrill of the initial encounter to a blissed out fog of frayed nerves and oversensitivity. 

But Sombra will not plead for mercy. 

“Perhaps she bluffs and she does not know,” Zarya says, and Sombra’s breath hitches on a whine when those fingers withdraw, warm palm closing over Sombra’s throbbing cunt to cup and hold her still. Her body goes slack with relief and she shivers with the knowledge her hips can fit in Zarya’s entire hand, that Zarya can make her bounce on it.

“You’ve only made her come three times,” Another voice replies, wry and softly resonant in its quality. “She said five. She’s not going to let you off before five. She definitely knows.”

Clenching her jaw, Sombra’s vision slits open and she grins through the fall of her hair at the omnic sitting on the bed’s edge. 

Lynx Seventeen watches with arms crossed, their turquoise jumpsuit an Aurorean bloom of colour in the dim from the one lamp Sombra permitted they light in the entry. 

She senses irritated amusement in the flick of Lynx’s ears when she slides a hand to them across the mattress, lacquered nails curling in beckon.

“It’s rude just to watch, mi tesoro.”

Their head cants with a huff of disdain. “You think you can take more? You’re _shaking_ , Sombra.”

They’re not wrong. She can feel the tremors in her body when she draws a slower breath, the way her thighs quake from the strain of being held open. Her hips ache from the angle. Against Zarya’s palm, her flesh tingles from the abuse of being stretched so wide. She imagines the lips of her cunt look dark and raw, smeared with so much slick, but on the inside she is clenching again, her body protesting at its emptiness after being filled to the brink and delirious with it.

She made the right bet. She hasn’t been fucked this well in months.

“I need a drink,” she licks her lips, grin lazy and open.

Above her, Zarya snorts and squeezes Sombra’s thigh. “The criminal is dehydrated, Seventeen. Give her something to drink.”

Sombra is offended. She’s only a criminal if she gets caught.

The ears on Lynx’s helm flick forward and Sombra wonders what they’re trying to read. A soft slurry of Omnic speech blends in her ears as their jumpsuit comes free around their shoulders. She is too distracted to parse anything by their high clavicle of polished chrome and the appearance of a carbon fibre body. She squints in the dark as the rest of their frame is revealed. Something is off-colour about the steel. Is that titanium in their joints? Or something else? She looks back into their face as the bed dips and Lynx slinks forward on hands and knees. 

It affirms what she has long suspected by the intelligence gathered: Lynx Seventeen was engineered by someone with deep pockets. But not the sharpest mind.

Cool steel curls gently behind Sombra’s neck when Lynx tilts her head, fingers dancing close to the circuitry on her nape and the coils of her scalp.

“Mind the hardware,” she warns, voice thinned and coy. 

Kneeling above her, Lynx returns the dare with an arch of their ears, unimpressed. A thumb presses against the lock of her jaw. “Open.”

Sombra shivers at the command, swallowing quickly as she obeys and Lynx lowers themself against the offering of her mouth. Hands flying up to clutch the steel thighs bracketed around her head, she’s triumphant at the evidence of Lynx’s arousal that smears across her mouth. Of course they were enjoying this: the prospect of dominating the best hacker in the world. How could they not?

But Sombra was not lying when she said she was thirsty. She buries a thick moan against the soft lips that part around her tongue, giddy at the tremor in Lynx’s frame when she drags the omnic down to sit on her face and takes to that valve like she’s starving. Tilting her jaw, she suckles at that hole, seeking deep and drinking down the slick that bursts on her tongue as the reinforced limbs tremble under her hands. Lynx is mostly flavourless, disappointing--but refreshing. Their slick sparks like carbon and satisfies the parch of her throat. A conductive compound? Interesting.

She pulls off the base of Lynx’s valve with a moan, pulling back far enough to examine the unexpected feast and part those lips again with a careful touch. 

She needs more.

A steel hand clutches low on her ribs and Lynx buckles forward against her mouth when she surges in again, groaning, “Shit.”

Even though Lynx is a light frame, that’s a lot of steel, cogs and expensive electronics that could crush Sombra with little effort. She’s grateful the omnic has enough self-control not to collapse as she sucks, nibbles and drags her tongue in wide, hot stripes between their legs from base to anterior node. She’s earnest in her thirst, lapping up every trace of slick Lynx is helpless to yield to her tongue. 

“I do not understand some people,” Zarya mutters above them, and Sombra’s chest warms with mirth.

If she’s honest, Sombra prefers to bury her head between the legs of an omnic than a human on most days. They’re ingenuitive, cleaner, they don’t smell like metal, the grind of gears or sparking wires despite popular misconception, and the ways they taste are sometimes unexpected. Sombra once ate out an omnic for hours just because the bot had flavoured her slick like raspberry parfait. 

And omnics are smart enough to be afraid of her.

Raking her nails down Lynx’s exposed spinal strut, she initiates the hack with a crackle of magenta. Lynx’s chest thrusts out, startling with a gasp. Since they last met in Mexico, Lynx had installed new protections. Sombra detects, bypasses and quarantines them with the work of a thought. She’s smarter and faster than both this omnic and whoever built them. She’s the best hacker in the world and she lets that reminder sink in as she feels Lynx’s shock ripple through their new link.

Lynx stares down at her, unable to move or speak. A flicker of fear ghosts through their connection. 

 _Relax,_ she sends back, _I’m not going to hurt you._ She smirks, fingers curling into the soft seams of their thighs, nails brushing sensitive wires and sensors that make them hitch, ears flattening against their helm. _Anymore than you want._

Watching all of this, Zarya grows tired of the detour.

“Four,” she announces, and slides four fingers into Sombra without further warning.

Sombra and Lynx both jerk, Sombra crying out against Lynx’s valve and lets the sensation flood through the connection with the omnic poised above her to lessen the intensity. Lynx’s voice box glitches as Zarya tests the stretch and, satisfied, shakes her wrist, working Sombra open around her knuckles. On her back, Sombra mewls, eyes sliding shut as she parts from Lynx with a wet smack of sound. Her head falls back against the sheets and the flex of Zarya’s arm pinning her thigh is the only warning before Zarya presses her fingers together.

“Haaah! A-aaahn!”

Sombra arches with a high cry as Zarya fucks into her, sharp and fast jerks of her wrist that make Sombra think the soldier might finally be growing annoyed. The squelch of herself being spread over and over is loud and sloppy in the hotel room, broken only by Lynx’s deep groan as they fall forward onto their elbows over Sombra’s body. 

Sombra watches the grey lips of their valve pulse and throb above her. She sticks her tongue out to catch another bead of teal squeezed free by its contraction around a phantom intrusion. She moans, clawing those hips down to her, seeking more. Watching those knees spread wider, thighs shaking as the charge builds, Lynx shudders and arches with a soft whimper of distress. They are gorgeous from this angle and Sombra smirks to herself, greedy and smug.

If only Zarya knew how much she was to blame.

Licking her lips, Sombra holds tight to Lynx and submits to the sensations wracking over her body. Swaying with the strength of the fingers thrusting into her, she leans her forehead against Lynx’s thigh, the pitch of her whines rising faster and shorter as the coil of pleasure in her gut winds tighter and tighter on itself, release tumbling towards her.

“Who is her contact?” Zarya asks her again.

At least one person remembers why they’re all here. 

The hand withdraws and Sombra shrieks at the slap that lands against the lips of her cunt. Instinctually, she tries to pull her thighs together, but Zarya has absolute control, preventing her thighs from closing.  

“No, that hurts,” Lynx moans, and Sombra feels them push Zarya’s hand away.

The soldier rears back in shock. “What?”

Beneath them, trembling, Sombra buries her cackle against the pistons of Lynx’s thigh.

Well, she can no longer question Aleksandra Zaryanova’s dedication to protecting Russia. The name of Katya Volskaya’s contact who could up-end Russia’s confidence, in exchange for a few orgasms. Zarya still has no idea how deeply Katya has betrayed her people. It is a small trade. 

“Let me up,” Sombra says.

Pushing Lynx forward, she rises and draws her chest to their back with a fond sigh. Holding Zarya’s shoulder for purchase, she treats the woman an impatient look until the soldier relinquishes the hold on her thighs. 

Zarya watches her with suspicion and leans back on her hands, now with the weight of two people in her lap.

“I’ll make this simpler for you, Zaryanova. We’ll end at four.” Sombra pushes her hands up Lynx’s shoulders, gently scritches their helm between their ears and lifts the command control, returning the autonomy of their motor function. Lynx’s ears perk up instantly, shoulders straightening in alert, and Sombra nuzzles against their back when they shiver, pleased when they don’t pull away. She murmurs, low and intimate, “Did you like that?”

The dubious eyebrow Zarya is giving her makes her smile, as do the confused glances that keep darting back to the soldier’s supposed ally who is trembling, fists clenched against their knees. 

“Very well. Four,” Zarya’s hand is already sliding down between their tangled legs, and a soft breath hitches from Lynx, ex-venting with a blast of heat down their sides when Zarya accidentally brushes their thigh instead. “Seventeen,” Zarya halts, and it’s such a shame she can collude with an omnic but not summon the strength to ask after their wellbeing.

Sombra releases a long sigh of pleasure. Adjusting her posture, she draws Lynx’s knees up around hers. “We end at four,” she brings Zarya’s attention back to her, reaching around and sinking a hand between Lynx’s thighs. She smirks at the pink-haired soldier, and takes the hand already lingering there. Lynx gasps sharply and Zarya’s eyes grow wide when Sombra rolls her hips, pushing that large, strong hand down the slick mess from Lynx to herself and back again. Sombra leers at Zarya, leaning in close. “But you use both hands.”

**Author's Note:**

> Spanish translations:  
> 1) Flaca: Skinny (yes, Sombra uses this ironically)  
> 2) Mi tesoro: My treasure
> 
> Gendered languages are seldom so annoying as when you’re trying to include non-binary characters in your narrative. I read a few resources on how Spanish speakers are trying to include gender diverse language in both written and spoken, but if you have any future suggestions, let me know!
> 
> I live in hope that once I clear all this filth from my dashboard, I can get to the backlog of plot on my list.


End file.
